


five reunions that didn't happen

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, Reunions, Spoilers for SiH 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Coming home to a person, or a place, or both.





	five reunions that didn't happen

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to maddie for betaing, and for emotional support during these hard SiH times

_Lem, Fero_

Fero is the first thing Lem sees as they get off the boat. He sees the town of course, hard to miss even at night with its new fortified walls and high tower, and he sees the forest, and the wall of the starstuff, holding back the Heat and the Dark.

 

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Fero is the first thing he _notices_ when he gets off the boat.

 

Lem finds, without really meaning to, that his pace is speeding up, that he’s almost running up the hill toward Fero’s small camp.

 

“Fero!”

 

The small figure of Fero rises, posture changing quickly from wariness, to surprise, to something else Lem can’t place.

 

“Lem?”

 

Lem stumbles to a stop in front of Fero’s small campfire, almost glad to be out of breath because it saves him from having to find words.

 

“I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” says Lem.

 

He does not say _I’m sorry_ . He also does not say _I have nothing to be sorry for._

 

“Yeah,” says Fero, “it’s been a really long time.”

 

Fero does not say _I forgive you_ . He also does not say _I don’t forgive you_.

 

“It really has!” says Lem.

 

He can hear the others approaching, Hadrian’s armour clanking in the dark as they make their way uphill. He should say something, while it’s just him and Fero. This is one of those times, Lem thinks, where words are so important to the future you want to have in a place, with another person.

 

What comes out is, “You’re taller than I remember you being!”

 

Lem winces, but Fero laughs, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

 

“So are you!” says Fero.

 

Lem laughs too.

 

The others come, asking how it’s been in Hieron (terrible), how it’s been here at the University (awful), asking how Fero is (fine). Hella, in the new way she has, scoops Fero into a hug.

 

 _Oh_ , thinks Lem, _I should have done that_.

 

“Well, we should go and see who else is left,” says Adaire.

 

Hella shushes her, glancing at Hadrian.

 

“Okay,” says Fero, fiddling with toggle of his jacket.

 

Lem remembers when he got that jacket, their first night in Velas. Fero had kept staring at it in the store until Lem bought it for him. He said he only really liked it for the carved wooden toggles, and that he could have made his own, and Lem had told him that now he didn’t have to, and they’d argued about it for what felt like three hours. And after that, Fero had never worn another jacket.

 

Hella puts her hand on Hadrian’s shoulder. “Come on.”

 

“I think I’ll stay for a bit actually,” says Lem.

 

“Really?” says Adaire.

 

“If that’s alright?” says Lem, looking to Fero.

 

Fero blinks, tilts his head to one side. “Okay.”

 

“I’ll catch up to you all in a bit,” says Lem.

 

“Sure,” says Hella.

 

She squeezes his shoulder on the way past, guiding Hadrian and Adaire towards the University gates. Their footsteps fade, disappearing under the low crackling of the fire. Lem isn’t sure where to look, his gaze flitting from Fero, to the fire, to Fero’s small tent, to the dark forest behind them.

 

“It’s been a really long time,” says Fero, eventually.

 

“Yes,” says Lem.

 

“And it’s really sucked,” says Fero, “It was okay for a while, but then it just _really_ sucked.”

 

His voice cracks on the last word and he looks away. He looked taller a moment ago, but now he looks just as small as Lem remembered him being. Lem takes a deep breath in and tries to summon whatever kind of strength it is that helps Hella do this, and pulls Fero into a hug.

 

It’s… well. Maybe it’s something you need to practise. And it probably helps if the other person is looking at you when you start trying to do it.

 

“ _What_ are you _doing_ ?” says Fero. He squirms for a moment, frowning up at him and pushing at Lem’s chest. “Put me _down_.”

 

“I just- you seemed okay with Hella doing it, so I thought-”

 

“Well _Hella_ never-” Fero huffs a breath. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“Listen,” says Lem, “listen. I- Look. I’m back and we’re going to have to… I mean, _you’re_ going to have to-”

 

“ _I’m_ going to have to?” says Fero, “Why is this always on me!”

 

“That’s not what I meant!” says Lem.

 

“Then what did you mean!”

 

“I don’t know!” says Lem, “I was hoping you’d know!”

 

Fero looks at him for a moment, and then he laughs. Lem huffs a laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Can I…?” asks Lem, gesturing at the campfire.

 

“Sure,” says Fero, still laughing a little.

 

He sits on the ground, leaning his back against one of the logs surrounding the campfire. Lem does the same, wincing a little at the cold ground. They both stare at the fire.

 

“So,” says Fero, “how long are you planning on staying?”

 

“I’m not sure,” says Lem, “I suppose I should go and see the others in the morning.”

 

Fero pauses for a moment. “I could show you around, if you like.”

 

“That would be good,” sys Lem. “Thanks.”

 

Neither of them say _I missed you_ , but when Lem falls asleep Fero tucks his jacket in between the log and Lem’s head as a pillow, and lets himself lean against Lem as the fire burns low. He’s warm enough like this without it.

  


_Hadrian, Rosana, Ben ( & Blue Jay) _

It’s a long day of being shown around the University town, figuring out the new ways in which the world works. Rosana stays at his side even though Hadrian’s sure she has other things she’s supposed to be attending to. He’s grateful for her steady presence, the warmth of her hand on his arms when his thoughts get away from him and he reaches for a sense of things that are no longer there.

 

Normally, she explains, they go to one of the communal dining halls for dinner, so that people can still come to her for guidance.

 

“She means interrupt her with questions,” says Ben.

 

Hadrian frowns, but Rosana smiles good-naturedly, so Hadrian doesn’t chastise him.

 

“That is perhaps another way to put it,” says Rosana, “however tonight I don’t think anyone will take issue with us having a more private dinner. A family dinner.”

 

Hadrian smiles. “That sounds wonderful.”

 

It steadies him to know that their old routines can be brought into this new world. He slips his hand into hers and squeezes, and she squeezes back.

 

The routine is a little different than their old one - the University market is a very different place than the Velasian marketplace in his memory - but Rosana guides him through it, having him carry the basket as she and Ben look over the items.

 

He helps prepare the meal with her, the only change now that Ben is not running underfoot but is helping too, carrying water back from the well in a pot the size of the younger self that Hadrian last remembers him as. He says something quietly to Rosana and she nods, and he kisses her on the cheek before ducking out the door.

 

“We’ll have another guest for dinner,” says Rosana, before he can ask.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Ben’s friend, Blue Jay, will be coming,” says Rosana, “They’re very close.”

 

“Close,” says Hadrian.

 

“Yes,” says Rosana, looking up from where she’s adding carrots into the pot, “they’ve been that way almost since we got here. I think it’s helped Ben through a lot.”

 

Hadrian nods. “Then I’m happy that he will be here with us.”

 

Rosana smiles, leaning over to kiss him, fast and light. “I thought you would be.”

 

Ben and Blue Jay arrive just as the food is ready, tumbling in the door in a way that puts Hadrian in mind of when Ben was younger. He must let it show on his face, because Rosana pauses in where she’s setting out the bowls, putting a hand on his cheek.

 

“Where did you go just now?”

 

Hadrian covers her hand with his. “I’m here, I just… I’ve missed so much, of Ben, of you…”

 

“You’re here now,” says Rosana. She leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “We cannot get back time that is lost, but we can make new time together now.”

 

Hadrian lets out a breath, letting his eyes fall closed as she rubs a thumb over his cheekbone, an old motion, echoing through his memories into his chest. He leans into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, and Rosana smiles. He can hear Ben and Blue Jay clattering around in the other room, taking off their heavy winter boots. She steps back slowly, letting her hand drop from his cheek to rest for a moment on his chest.

 

Just for a moment, everything feels the same as it ever was, the room could be their small kitchen in Velas, the smell of the cooking in the air could be any one of the thousands of meals they shared together, the warmth in Rosana’s eyes the same as they were in his memory of her when they were separated.

 

Hadrian blinks, and the world is its new and different self again, but now he can see the layers of the familiar intertwined within. Rosana smiles at him, her hand brushing across his shoulders as she heads towards the kitchen. Hadrian lets out a long breath.

 

He’s home.

  


_Adelaide, Maelgwyn_

The first thing that’s surprising to Maelgwyn when he blinks awake is that he’s awake at all, in a body that is entirely his own.

 

The room he’s in is made of black opal, gleaming and cold, but there is light outside, the pink-blue-purple of twilight. He can see the ocean, the sea reflecting the twilight colours, painting them onto the sand.

 

He turns back to the room. Simple furniture made of the same black opal as the walls and floor, as though the entire room was carved from a single stone. In the small cupboard there’s clothing that fits him better than the bloody robe he has on. The blood on the robe is the only sign that what he remembers was real - his skin is clean and unmarked.

 

Maelgwyn dresses quickly. He stares at the robe for a long moment before shoving it in the cupboard and quickly leaving the room.

 

The hallway outside of the room is made of the same black opal. Maelgwyn heads towards what he hopes is outside. For such a big place, there doesn’t seem to be many people. There doesn’t seem to be _any_ people actually. At all. His footsteps echo, loud to his ears in the silence.

 

“Hello.”

 

Maelgwyn stops in the place, turning towards the voice.

 

“Hello?” says Maelgwyn.

 

“I wasn’t expecting visitors quite so early,” says the voice. “I’m not quite done with this yet.”

 

Maelgwyn follows the voice to a courtyard. The columns and fountain and all made of the same black opal. Flowers spring from the gardens, a shout of colour in the smooth space. A woman is sitting on the bench by the fountain, her sheer blue skirts flowing around her. As he watches, she raises her hands, drawing more plants from the black opal earth.

 

He clears his throat.

 

“You’re early,” says the woman.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re early,” says the woman again. “I told Hella I wouldn’t be ready to host anyone new for a little while longer. But I suppose she never was one for good timing.”

 

“I don’t… know who that is,” says Maelgwyn. “Where am I?”

 

The woman looks up, frowning at him. “You look… hmm. Well this certain is an interesting development.” She stands. “I am Adelaide, former Queen of Nacre, former and current Queen of the Dead.”

 

Maelgwyn thinks of the bloody robe, his clear skin. Ephrim. The sword.

 

His knees buckle a little and Adelaide grabs his arm, her grip like iron, and guides him to sit on the bench beside her.

 

“I didn’t think I could die,” says Maelgwyn, once he finds his voice again.

 

“Not an uncommon thought,” says Adelaide. “I am trying to make a place that makes the thought of death a little easier to have.”

 

Maelgwyn takes a steadying breath, looking around at the garden. It will be beautiful, once it’s finished.

 

“What happens now?” says Maelgwyn, “I don’t… I can’t…”

 

Adelaide looks out at the garden. “This place, once it is finished, will be home to souls who do not wish to move into oblivion so soon.”

 

“So I can… stay here?” says Maelgwyn, “And do what?”

 

Adelaide blinks. “Whatever you’d like.”

 

Maelgwyn looks down at his hands. “I don’t… it’s been a long time since I’ve… I don’t think I know how to do that.”

 

Adelaide hums. “This place will be large, and, eventually, it will have many people in it. I imagine it will be good, when that happens, to have some assistance with running things, helping to give people guidance, that sort of thing.”

 

“I don’t think I’d be very good at giving people advice,” says Maelgwyn.

 

“I have found that most people only really need you to listen,” says Adelaide. “They can work out what they want for themselves, with a little help here and there. And soon there will be a lot of them, probably more than I would like to handle on my own. If you would like to help.”

 

Maelgwyn looks up. “I can do that.”

 

Adelaide smiles. “Good.”

 

She lightly touches the back of his hand. Her touch is cold, but Maelgwyn doesn’t mind. His touch is cold as well. He sits with her as she brings the courtyard together - black opal giving way to bright flowers. The fountain sputters into life behind them and Maelgwyn closes his eyes against the faint spray of water.

 

“Come along,” says Adelaide, “We still have much to do.”

 

Maelgwyn stands to follow her, with purpose.

  


_Adaire, Blake_

Adaire walks the perimeter of the University, looking for cracks and hidey holes. She’s not even particularly sure why. It feels good to do, when she can’t sleep, so she does it.

 

“ _Psst_!”

 

Adaire freezes, pushing herself back into the shadow of the closest house.

 

“ _Adaire_ ,” says a familiar voice, “ _over here_.”

 

“If you think I’m going to do that then you don’t know me as well as you think,” whispers Adaire.

 

They laugh, and there’s a scrambling noise before Blake’s head pokes over the wall.

 

“I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it,” said Blake. “I guess _now_ I do believe it.”

 

Adaire lets herself smile, stepping closer to the wall. “Shouldn’t you be in here?”

 

Blake makes a face. “Nah. Too many rules, not enough benefits. Although maybe now you’re back…”

 

“I could certainly be of benefit to you,” says Adaire, “if _you_ could be of benefit to _me_.”

 

Blake grins. “I absolutely could. How long are you in town for?”

 

Adaire pauses for a moment. There’s Hella to consider. Hella, who wouldn’t leave without Hadrian, who won’t leave without his family, who probably won’t leave unless the town does.

 

She sighs. “I suppose until the next disaster happens. Why, you got something in mind?”

 

“A couple of things, yeah,” says Blake, “and some jobs too, probably.”

 

Adaire presses her lips together to suppress a laugh. It’s late, and she doesn't want to bring in any unwanted attention to them before they’ve even got started. That would be no fun at all.

 

“Well,” says Adaire, “I look forward to hearing your offers.”

 

“Where can I find you?” says Blake.

 

“I’m around,” says Adaire, “I’m staying at the inn, I’m sure you can figure out a way to get a message to me.”

 

“The inn is easy,” says Blake, “and, uh, if you need to get a message to me, there’s this - okay, so it’s not a perfect system but - right by the gate, just behind the first watchtower, one of the bricks is loose. You can leave a message behind there.”

 

“You were right,” says Adaire, “that _isn’t_ a perfect system.”

 

“If you can think of something better I’d love to hear it.”

 

“I will,” says Adaire, “and then I’ll let you know.”

 

Blake laughs, then covers their mouth. Adaire can hear the crunching step of the patrol. When she looks back, Blake is gone from their spot. Adaire huffs a laugh and continues on. The guards know her well enough that her being here won’t raise the alarm, and she’s sure the keep her steps as small and measured as always, nothing out of the ordinary.

 

When she get back to her room it’s just as she left it, with the addition of a bunch of violets on her pillow.

  


_Samothes, Samot_

The night is still, the windows open in an attempt to pull in even the slightest breeze. Samot’s mind is hazy from hours of staring at the same old documents, trying to find new meaning in the too-familiar words. His eyes are heavy, and he can feel himself drift. Aubrey, no doubt, will have some disapproving things to say about him falling asleep at his desk again, but Samot can’t particularly bring himself to care, his limbs too heavy to even think of dragging himself into the next room to bed.

 

There’s a rush of wind, scattering the pages off his desk and jolting Samot awake. He blinks, scrubbing a hand over his face, then freezes.

 

There’s a figure in the doorway.

 

He reaches blindly for a weapon, the dagger he’d used to open letter the easiest within reach.

 

“I was hoping that perhaps we could put that aside for once.”

 

Samot drops the dagger, clutching the edge of the desk for support.

 

Samothes steps forward into the candlelight.

 

His hair is longer than Samot remembers, his eyes kinder, his shoulders broader, all of him _more_ than the wisps of memory Samot had ever been able to conjure. Samot can barely breath, doesn’t want to blink in case Samothes disappears from in front of his eyes.

 

“You,” manages Samot.

 

Samothes smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that clenches at Samot’s heart.

 

“Me.”

 

Samothes steps forward again and Samot stumbles to copy his movement, natural grace gone in his haste. He reaches, hand shaking, to touch Samothes’ face and Samothes catches his hand, pulling it to his cheek, pulling Samot to him.

 

It is strange to fit himself against Samothes’ body and to feel Samothes fit his body against his, and also it feels as though he had just done so, as though they had done this every day of their lives.

 

“How…?” says Samot, “Is this a dream? The mask?”

 

“In a way,” says Samothes, “I held it in my hands and then… I could feel there was a door, where there was no such door before. And I could feel you, where I had not felt you for… the feeling guided me here. _You_ guided me here.”

 

He pulls Samot tighter to him. Samot certainly understands the impulse, his hands twisting in the fabric of Samothes’s robe, holding him tight. Samothes leans in, and presses a kiss to Samot’s forehead.

 

Samot buries his face in Samothes’s shoulder. Samothes smells like the forge, and the sea. He smells like _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


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